


Uncleanliness

by Daniela_is_not_amused



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Character Death, Depressed Stiles Stilinski, Everything Hurts, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Major Character Injury, NOT REALLY BUT OK, Not Beta Read, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sad Ending, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Sort Of, Stiles Stilinski Feels, Stiles Stilinski Feels Guilty, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22572490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daniela_is_not_amused/pseuds/Daniela_is_not_amused
Summary: It's raining in Beacon Hills.Stiles realizes that, much like Beacon Hills, there is only one way he could ever be clean in his father's eyes.
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 177





	Uncleanliness

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. Not beta-read. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

It’s raining in Beacon Hills.

He is vaguely aware of the way the sheets of water bear down on his body, how the droplets bathe him and dust him with water, cleaning the shallow impurities. He hardly notices how the roads are slick, or how his own reflection stares up at him, sad but unwavering. He doesn't see that the grime of the city remains despite the cleansing rain, but, then again, he didn't need to see that to understand.

He now knows that nothing can wash away a grime so entrenched in something, so acutely embedded, that nothing can ever truly clean Beacon Hills.

Not even the Argents. Not even a True Alpha. Not even his dad.

And, like the city, he can never be clean; a sin so deeply etched into his soul, a sin that makes him imperfect and unworthy.

He has no time for that now, he thinks. He has no time to think of how much his dad abhorred him, how much his dad wished he would be someone else's problem, how much his dad saws him only as a delinquent to be fixed, a freak to be scrutinized, an object to be scrubbed cleaned.

His vision blurs. Stiles puts a hand out to steady himself as he trudges, slowly, up the frail metal stairs, toward the place that started everything. He thinks that if he goes there, if he ends up in the place where his dad’s life truly ended, it will mean something, to someone.

Blood drips unsteadily from his mouth, but is washed away quickly by the heavy rains, as is the blood dripping from the hole in his stomach.

A blade had rested there, struck into him by one of the Sheriff’s many enemies, while Stiles was out patrolling on his own. He disobeyed orders and broke rules by leaving the house in his dad and Scott’s absence, had committed one last mistake for his dad to add to the list of sins. Death, he reasons, is the only way to receive forgiveness for the mistakes he had made. Death, for someone like him, is the only way, in his father’s eyes, to ever be clean.

He stumbles, but catches himself, determined to make it to his destination. He must get there; he must survive for just long enough. He pushes a hand against the painful wound, willing the blood flow to slow as he forces himself to continue walking.

The rain will remove all traces of his death, will wash away the bright red soaking his clothes, littering the hospital’s roof, marking his journey. By tomorrow he will be nothing more than another blood soaked victim of Beacon Hills. He will be just another reason for Scott to fight, for his dad to work, for Peter to kill, for Derek to frown, for Lydia to persevere.

He falls down at a dirty corner of the roof, bathed in moonlight, the last remaining pints of his blood pooling around him.

A small smile forms on his face as his consciousness fades. His final thought makes him so happy, even if he knows it won't be true; at least, not in the way he wants, desires, needs.

_ Maybe now, he thinks, maybe now I can make them proud. _

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated!


End file.
